


Divergence Interlude

by marmolita



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Episode Related, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 02:46:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2294066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmolita/pseuds/marmolita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>T'Pol's POV during Divergence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Divergence Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt from [poehlersehlat](http://archiveofourown.org/users/poehlersehlat) who wanted T'Pol's POV admiring Trip's engineering skills. Takes place during Divergence but spoilers for Bound.

"Fancy meeting you here," he says. "Intermix pressure?" You consult the panel in front of you and try to ignore the emotions threatening to break the surface. The feeling of relief is far more than you expected -- seeing Trip alive and whole after the extremely dangerous transfer from Columbia, knowing that he has a plan to purge the Klingon subroutines and get the ship back to normal, just _seeing him_ at all.

"Fifteen twenty-seven," you report.

"Field variance?"

"Eighty-seven millicochranes."

"Somebody hasn't been taking very good care of my engine." Even his characteristic use of critical time for banter is comforting, and you try not to think too hard about that.

"Speak with the Klingons," you say as he heads for the warp core. "What are you doing?"

"You might want to take notes." He reaches for the ladder and starts climbing. "I'm about to perform a manual shut down and restart in less than two minutes." If you were a human, you imagine you might experience the feeling they refer to as having your "gut clench." But you're not human, and what Trip is proposing isn't only disturbing, it's not possible and you tell him so.

"Watch me," he says, and you shouldn't admire him for it, but you do. He climbs on top of the engine and starts giving orders, and there's no time to think when your fingers are flying so fast over the control panels. He shouts for everyone to get away from the bulkheads and you crouch down in the corner, feeling your heart beat every second as Trip dashes down the ladders away from the overheating engine. He puts his hand on your back when he reaches you and ducks for cover, and there's a jolt of excitement and nervous energy you can suddenly feel coming from him. Now is not the time to think about psychic bonds or Vulcan mating rituals, but you can't believe that Trip doesn't feel this too, doesn't feel that connection every time he touches you, even in the most innocent brush of his hand. There's a loud bang and the drive shuts down; you calculate that there's less than a minute left in the protection of Columbia's warp field, but if anyone is capable of restarting the core that quickly it's Trip. His hand is gone and he's shouting orders again, and you prime the injectors and prepare to initialize the matrix while he realigns the field generators.

The seconds are ticking away and ever since the trellium this kind of thing has made you nervous, made you afraid, but you're not afraid now. You're not afraid because Trip is not afraid, because he knows he can do this despite the odds, and when the generator flares to life and the engines come back online with a satisfying hum you breathe a sigh of relief in synchrony with him.

When you met Trip Tucker for the first time, you never would have thought him capable of the engineering feats you've since seen him accomplish. It took a long time to overcome your prejudices -- you can admit, now, that you had prejudices -- and acknowledge his competence. Since then, however, your admiration for him has done nothing but grow. Working beside him feels right, feels comfortable, in a way that few things in your life do. At the same time, it's difficult. You know you hurt him, but you don't know how to fix it, and you don't know if he wants it to be fixed.

Trip's elbow touches yours as he moves from the console you're sharing to climb up the ladder on the engine, and you find yourself watching him and thinking of sex. You force your gaze back to the console and attempt to clear your mind, but you're not sure if the thoughts are entirely your own or are coming from him. He shows no sign of noticing, though, just like he showed no sign of noticing earlier when he touched you, just like he's shown no sign of noticing _any_ of these feelings passing between you.

Perhaps it's just wishful thinking to believe that he may have bonded with you. Perhaps that's your way of rationalizing your illogical desire to have him back in your life, not just as your colleague but also as your lover.

You try to confront him about it, later, but he reacts with hostility so you respond in kind. You try to convince yourself it's better for him to be on board Columbia, for so many reasons. You prepare yourself for his inevitable departure.

When you find that he's staying aboard to help with repairs, you try to convince yourself you're not relieved.

You're not very good at convincing yourself of anything lately.


End file.
